This weekend we celebrated Walker's 40th birthday. He bought some 40 year old port for us to enjoy after dinner at his party. A number of his friends came from far away, and very sweetly since Walker doesn't like beer, everyone who brought alcohol brought wine, or cider, or kriek. We couldn't drink it all, especially with all the port. They even drank the pale ale leftover from our 4th of July party.
Moira had a great time, only having a brief burst of shyness around cake cutting time. When it was bedtime, and I told her it was time for stories, she sighted happily and said "Bed time!" and pointed at all the guests in in the kitchen and said "Don't go home!"
Up until now I haven't had any trouble letting go of her past in exchange for her future. I've approached every milestone with arms wide open. Or so I thought.
Her hair. Her lovely (stringy, in her eyes, tangled) baby hair. She's constantly holding it out of her eyes, and I'm constantly forgetting to brush it. And it looks like a rats nest. She had a haircut, a year ago, when her baby mullet got so long and I couldn't handle it anymore.
Since then I haven't gotten it cut. I wanted it to grow long, I didn't want her to have bangs we might later have to grow out. But then a conversation in our toddler group made me suddenly realize that the actual problem was that I didn't want her to lose that last bit of babyness. You know, have an actual hairstyle.
But here's the thing. She has the same hair I have, and the same face shape. I've played around a lot with my hair, and I'm pretty sure that I know what hairstyle will work best given my (and her) unwillingness to actually do anything other then brush it. When she actually starts having opinions about her hair, I will help her do whatever crazy thing she wants with it.
But I should just admit to myself that she's not a baby. She is wearing 3T clothes, and size 8 shoes. She is old enough to have an actual haircut. Which makes it even sweeter when she hurts herself and runs straight past me to get cuddles from Daddy. That when she wakes up in the morning and before she wants breakfast, she wants to "Snuggle Mommy!" That when we were at my aunt's cabin and sharing a bed she woke up on the second night with a sigh, saying "I sleep all night in Mommy's arms." Because she is still our baby.
But in 37 years, she'll have to buy her own port.